Two Small Flowers
by PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow
Summary: Ludwig is sent to watch over a concentration camp in WWII. Little does he know that he will quickly fall in love with the man behind the gate: Feliciano Vargas. In his deathbed, Ludwig tells this story in hopes of paying one final respect to his lover and his own brother's struggles. Human AU GerIta
1. Part I: The First and Second Decision

**_Two Small Flowers_**

_Ludwig is sent to watch over a concentration camp in WWII. Little does he know that he will quickly fall in love with the man behind the gate: Feliciano Vargas. In his deathbed, Ludwig tells this story in hopes of paying one final respect to his lover and his own brother's struggles. _

_Human AU_

_GerIta _

_I do not own Hetalia_

_[A/N: I just wanted to point out that this has become a very important story to me. There isn't enough LGBT literature in the world and I may as well write to expand this little-explored area. The facts stated about the imprisonment of homosexuals (under the Third Reich I believe) and how their so-called rescuers abandoned them is, unfortunately, true. Enough of this, on to the story. I hope you enjoy]_

* * *

Opal Virginia was crying. Her mother in law had finished a long list of insults, mocking Opal's middle age, the tender wrinkles forming, and even mocking her son on his bad choice. The son concerned, Sam Virginia, gave her a painful smile.

"Go watch a movie or something. I think it is best that you leave for now." He whispered, handing her a ten dollar bill. She swallowed back tears and took it, going out into the hall where she begun a long session of weeping. She tucked the bill away and pulled out a candy bar instead, munching on it and pushing her shock of coppery hair behind her ears. She looked around, teary eyed, at the doctors that ignored her in uncomfortable silence, and spotted the triangular shape of a German shepherd's head. She blinked, wondering what sort of cruel illusion that was, and discovered that indeed there was a long, handsome dog in the room across from hers. She made her way over and peered in. The partition separating the two beds in the room, one unoccupied, was drawn away. The dog, leashed to a heavy sofa, paced along the front of the room.

When she spotted Opal, she jumped forwards, straining her leash and woofing. Opal stepped back, demurred by the ferocity of the dog. The man on the bed said something in what Opal assumed was German and the dog reluctantly settled down. Opal, knowing she was already overstepping some boundaries, inclined her head to peer in. On the bed closest to the window was a faded old man. His head was strong and still handsome, with piercing blue eyes, and thinning white hair. He was hooked up to several machines whirring and buzzing lazily. He turned his head towards Opal. A smile cracked across his face briefly before melting away.

"Why are you standing there?" he asked in perfect English.

"I-I'm sorry," she said, playing with the ends of her curls out of habit.

"And why have you been crying?" he added, looking at the tears still brimming her eyelashes.

In a moment she found herself sitting beside him and petting the dog, telling the old man all about her mother in law, her dieting problems, her loss of interest in life, and her child's outrageous behavior. "He should know better, he's in college!" she wept.

Although Opal assumed at first that the man, Ludwig B., would dismiss her in a moment with several short curses, he listened to her patiently and even gave her some advice. He must have noticed her surprise for he gave another brief grin. "I'm too old to yell. I yelled enough in my lifetime." His eyes darted to the thin gray clock perched above the boxy television set.

"Do you have any family?" Opal asked.

"I had an older brother but he passed away some time now. My cousins sometimes visit, but no one I know is young anymore except…."

"Except…?" Opal leaned in, intrigued.

"Except for Feliciano," Ludwig closed his eyes. "He will always be young. As long as I remember him he will never have a gray hair, a wrinkle, a brown spot on his flesh, no, nothing… But I shouldn't bore a young lady such as yourself with this long, sad story."

"Oh I have nowhere else to go," she said hastily, sitting back on the chair, propping her teal purse on her lap. "I can watch a movie, that's where my husband thinks I am, but this is far more interesting, believe me." She smiled at him and offered a pretzel from the plastic bag she kept in her purse. He took one and thanked her, launching into his story.

_Part I: The First and Second Decision_

Ludwig's older brother heard the news first. When he did, he thumped Ludwig hard across the back. He was a thin, wiry young man with white hair that stuck out in tufts, crimson eyes, and a contagious grin. Ludwig jumped when his brother's fist met his shoulder blade and turned around. His brother was wringing his hand.

"You didn't tell me about this!" Gilbert cried, holding out a formal document just out of Ludwig's reach. Ludwig glowered at it, wondering what Gilbert was raving on about now.

"Tell you about what? How can I tell you about something I don't even know about?" Ludwig muttered, hoping Gilbert didn't knock over his water or his plates. A piece of imported sour bread lay on his plate. The two were soldiers living in a small house in Germany, they could afford goods, but Ludwig hated to waste them. The images of families starving due to inflation raced in his mind.

"You've been _promoted_! Don't you see?" Gilbert hooted, finally relenting. He slammed the paper down. "And all I get to do it monitor these streets. You get to work for something useful, don't you see? Sadly you have to be in a camp with those… homosexuals." He made a face. Gilbert paused, as though disoriented. He shook his head. "And disabled people and those Roma people," he added.

Ludwig watched Gilbert strut away, fidgeting. Ludwig knew Gilbert had fallen in love with the pianist, their neighbor. He had seen Gilbert stay up late at night by the dim oil lantern, gazing out the window and listening to the Austrian man play. His notes trickled in through the thick glass of their windows and Gilbert would gaze out, his eyes drooping with sleep but a smile on his lips. Ludwig pretended to be asleep, charmed.

But… But now he had to monitor their executions. It was right, wasn't it? They were a threat. Queer people didn't belong. Right? Ludwig gazed at the paper for a long time. It meant a better pay. Better glory in the eyes of his country, of the world. Even when, in later years, the American army arrived, they would ignore them. His work was… good. Sure.

…

Ludwig looked across the bed at Opal. She was completely engrossed in story. She blinked when he stopped. He hadn't gone very far yet already she was in that tiny house, feeling the heat of summer, and the prospect looming on him.

"I thought it was for the best," Ludwig said. "I never expected to fall in love with someone there. I was a stupid soldier and an even stupider man."

"I didn't even know homosexuals were prosecuted at that time." Opal admitted quietly. "Why… imprison… love…?" she said slowly, choosing each word.

"I don't really know."

…

"You said yes, you'll go, right?" Gilbert hounded him the following morning.

"Yes, I did." Ludwig said over breakfast. He would be leaving soon enough. That was his first decision.

Ludwig spent two solid hours preparing his body: cleaning, washing, brushing, dressing, and even adding a bit of scent to his neck so not to reek later on. Then he spent a half hour packing. He said good bye to the fat adorable Deutsch Hound who licked his hand. Ludwig smiled sadly and turned to leave. As he left he was approached by the pianist, as fate seemed keen on tripping him at every step.

"Can you take this letter to your brother?" The Austrian asked formally, holding out the sealed envelope.

"Why?" Ludwig asked, placing his bag in the backseat of his car. The Austrian wore his favorite long blue jacket and his brown hair was slicked back. He frowned.

"It's personal."

Ludwig nodded. Then he made his second decision. He promised to take it. The Austrian walked away. Ludwig entered his car and drove off into the dense green forestry. As he moved he tore the letter open with one hand and stopped at the side of the road, out of sight from the homes lining the streets. Written in lolling, looping handwriting with a tinge of an Austrian dialect was:

_Dear Gilbert,_

_I understand that you have been eyeing me for some time. And I wish to embrace such feelings…_

Ludwig didn't read anymore. He recalled his brother's anxiety, his brother's stubbornness, and he tore up the paper, as he had planned. As he drove off he unrolled the window and stuck a gloved hand out, his green army uniform turning yellow in the sunlight. He unfurled his fingers and let the shards of letters fall away, fluttering like dead leaves into the street. Some fell into puddles or mud. Others were carried off further. Still others caught in trees with their kin, dead among the living. Ludwig didn't look back. He didn't look back for a long time.

…

"Opal?"

Opal looked up and saw Sam in the hallway.

"Oh, I have to go," she said sadly. Ludwig smiled mutely.

"Will you come back?"

"Yes, next week." Opal said hopefully. "I might come back sooner. I'll try. I want to hear the rest—that is if it is no trouble on you."

"No trouble at all," Ludwig said. "It's good to let go of the past like this."

Opal blushed, though she didn't know why, and went out into the hallway.

"Where were you?" her husband asked in a gentle tone. He was a small man in glasses, could never say no, and could never raise his voice at his equally soft-spoken other half.

"I was listening to a story."

"It does the elderly good," he said. He held out his hand and she took it, squeezing his palm lightly. "And I'm sorry about Momma. She has been cranky for a long time now, even when I was a teen. Then again, I wouldn't go out to parties like she wanted me to. She would threaten to kick me out if I didn't get a social life." He laughed and let go of Opal's hand. She could see he was balding.

That night the beginnings of Ludwig's story spun in her head. She was exposed to an entirely different world. And she wanted more.


	2. Part II: Barbed Wire and Bloody Knuckles

The couple lived in a suburban house alone. Their only child moved to college the fall before and had been cruising since, drinking up all his newfound autonomy. Opal worried constantly but Sam told her not to. He was old enough to make his own decisions, he said, mimicking thousands of other parents who tried not to worry but did anyway. Opal frowned. "I worked hard for that boy, Sammy. I'm not going to give him up so easily." She said one evening, stirring the tea in her mug.

For all she loved Sam, she had to prove him wrong on two things: her son and his mother. He believed that his mother really was sweet but the mother refused to prove this to Opal. On the following visit Opal stayed only to say a terse, frigidly polite hello and went to the room across the hall. Sam spent the next hour arguing with his mother. "Really, she… I _love _her. Don't you understand?"

Opal entered Ludwig's room. She sat down and the dog barked, licking her hand. She grinned down at her. Ludwig watched her without a word. She offered him a cookie she made and packed in a plastic box. He took it gratefully.

"I shouldn't be taking it," he muttered and, as though making a great crime, he ate it discretely. She laughed into her fist. "You Americans…" he didn't finish his sentence. He shook his head slowly instead, running a wrinkled hand over his sparse hair.

"So what did you do when you got there?" Opal asked, failing to hide her eagerness.

"Got where?" he asked, frowning.

"To the… camp."

"Oh, yes, that's right. Where was I…? Hand me that glass of water, will you?" He pointed sternly at the cup on a rolling table. She picked it up and handed it over. He took a long sip and launched into his story.

…

_Part II: Barbed Wire and Bloody Knuckles_

Ludwig, in full green uniform with a chain dangling around his neck, a small black cross at the end, stood tall before the gates. He held his arms stiffly behind his back, his chin raised. For a year he crossed these paths, yelling orders at the men. He told them when to use the gas, when to whip, when to abuse, and even occasionally ordered them to clean up.

In the year, in the stifling summers and bitter winters, and in those camps he saw the gaunt faces. He passed by each one with a single glance. If one stared to long he grabbed the brown whip at his side and slashed at the shriveled, bony body.

One winter, when a train chugged along the road to bring a new wave of men over, Ludwig settled with some of his men. They sat around a wooden cabin, drinking beer by the golden light. By that time Ludwig's eyes had accustomed to each sight. His muscles moved by their own will. All he felt was hatred. He took a sip of the yeasty beverage and watched one of the men. The man, tipsy, was recollecting something about a girl he had back home.

"What a broad!" he said, laughing, "She'd lay me every night. I could get home and there she was, naked. She _wanted _me to put my hands on her. She wanted me to fuck her each day each night. Aww man, I miss her more than anything."

"What about your mom?" one cried out, raising a cup.

"I didn't fuck my ma."

"Disgusting! Worse than those bastards we keep locked up here." The group roared with laughter. Ludwig turned to gaze out the window, placing his chin in his palm. Snow glittered across the forest, catching on green pine needles and weighing them down. The final birds swarmed away, cawing. The train rolled closer, pouring black smoke into the air. The sky choked with clouds and moonlight continued to pour snow in heavy white layers. Men stood in heavy coats at the gates, waiting for the train and wishing they were warm in the cabin.

"Hey, Ludwig, sir, why don't you join us? We're going to visit the broads in town." One skinny man asked, his Adam's apple bobbing dangerously. His eyes were bloodshot and glistening with moisture.

Ludwig looked at them. He took off his cap and ran a hand down his then fine blond hair. "Where in town?" he asked tensely.

The man cowed and made a vague comment.

"Take a night off, if you need to, I don't want you hounding each other with violence later." Ludwig said and waved them off. A group of men, roughly half the cabin, dispersed.

…

"I started to think about my brother," Ludwig said, looking at Opal. "I thought that reckless kid would show up and visit me. I didn't realize that the morning I left home that first time would be the very last time I ever saw him. I received one letter from him about three years ago. He said he met up with that musician."

Opal sighed lightly, placing her hands on her lap and adjusting her green skirt. "He reminds me of my boy, reckless, wanting to be mature, but not knowing anything. Oh, I worry about him so much."

"Have you spoken with him about this?" Ludwig asked. He reached over the bed and ran his old hand over his dog's head. The dog's tail went wild, smacking Opal's legs. Opal reached down and glided her hand down the strong back.

"Not really, I mean, I made a hint that he shouldn't be doing this."

"Boys that age are stupid, they don't take hints. Talk to him over the phone. But he's reckless, he's learning through his recklessness. He'll settle eventually, or maybe never. I don't know him well enough to give you decent advice." Ludwig explained curtly.

Opal nodded solemnly. Maybe her worrying was only vain. She played with her hair, running her tongue over her lips.

"You look like him, you know, same face, same hair color. Are you Italian?"

"Yes, my maiden name is Vargas too. I thought that was a silly coincidence."

Ludwig raised his thin white eyebrows. The wrinkles on his forehead bunched up. He made no comment further.

"Is that train the one that brought him?"

"Which train?"

"The one that was coming that night?"

"No. Feliciano didn't arrive until a year after that."

…

The summer Feliciano arrived was especially lovely. The smell of burned and charred flesh had melted away since the spring. A new train arrived and Ludwig monitored the hoard of men entering. They entered a constricted building and had their clothing torn off. The truck that carried them went off, its splintery seats empty. New clothing was given. Among the Jewish prisoners were several Roma people and homosexuals, a first in this particular camp despite what Gilbert may have thought.

Ludwig entered the cabin where they slept. All of them stood by the beds. Their black eyes were pinned on him and fear gripped their entire beings like a serpent on a rat. Ludwig stood at the front. His eyes caught two men in the back, distinctly Italian. They appeared to be brothers. The older-looking one with darker hair and a large grease mark across his neck wrapped his arm around the redhead. Their striped uniforms were stained with ash.

"Can someone translate?" he asked loudly. His voice echoed through the silence. He asked again in English.

"I can, doesn't mean I will," the meaner older brother said. His little half restrained laughter. Ludwig didn't understand his Italian.

One man stood and translated Ludwig's harsh orders into Italian. Then Ludwig repeated his German in English. He told them of their duties, of how they have betrayed the country, and of their filth. Once he left, the older brother—Lovino Vargas—called after him in English. "Hey fat ass, if we're so fucking dirty you better check the seat of your pants, fucking kraut!"

Ludwig pretended not to hear. Outside the gates he asked a soldier if there was something there. There was nothing, the soldier said, only a spot of ash.

"What the hell was that Italian Jew talking about?" Ludwig scowled.

"Jew?"

"What else would he be?"

"He _wanted_ to be here, so did his kid brother," the soldier said, "At least, that's what I heard. He doesn't look like a Jew, does he?"

Ludwig kept an eye on him. The following day he had to break up a fight between him and a soldier. Lovino raised his bloody knuckles, ready to pummel the soldier further. Crimson leaked from his nose.

"What are you doing?" Ludwig bellowed.

"He won't let me have a snack, that's what!" Lovino bellowed right back. The soldier raised his whip and lashed Lovino across the neck and back five times. Lovino returned to his duty, leaving Ludwig watching.

Ludwig gazed at the soldier, who was not bleeding. "Are you hurt?"

"No, the idiot hit my gun and then tried to throw a rock at me but hit his nose instead." The soldier said, baffled completely. Ludwig didn't know how to respond. He looked over his shoulder. Lovino was talking rapidly with his brother, who was giggling into his fist. The little brother, Feliciano, caught Ludwig looking and turned away, blushing. Lovino noticed and began to yell in their lilting tongue.

Ludwig shook his head in dismay. Feliciano looked no older than nineteen but was twenty-one on the records Ludwig pulled up that night. Nothing on why they were there was stated. It seemed that they volunteered. Or maybe they were disabled. If that was the case they would have already been dead.

…

"Why would anyone choose to go there?" Opal asked in horror.

Ludwig shrugged. "I asked myself that. I didn't learn why they were there until much later. Too late, actually."

Opal looked at the clock. It was nearing two o'clock in the afternoon. She excused herself and peered into the other room. Sam looked up at her and eyed her to go away. His mother was on a long tirade about how awful the staff was and how prissy the nurses were and how the doctors smelled bad and how this, this, and that was terrible…

Her mother-in-law wanted to go to their place to live. The idea horrified Opal. She returned to Ludwig's room and updated him on this. They were hooking up machines to the bed next to his, drawing the curtains shut.

"She can't be that bad," Ludwig said, obviously amused.

"Oh, she is!" Opal cried. Ludwig chuckled hoarsely. The nurse who was placing new bed sheets cast a suspicious glance at Opal.

"Excuse me, are you a relative?" she asked.

"No!" Opal said at the same time that Ludwig rolled his eyes with a "yes!"

The nurse frowned.

"Oh, let the young lady keep me company. Is she bothering you?" Ludwig asked, now annoyed.

"This is _not_ a nursing home… but, I suppose if she isn't hurting anyone." The nurse crossed her thick arms. "Fine, but don't stay long."

Once the nurse left Ludwig scoffed, "What a bitch."

"So why were the two there?" Opal asked, picking out a bag of sliced carrots from her purse and offering some to Ludwig. Ludwig refused on the account that they made his stomach hurt. She munched on them and waited as he spoke.

…

The soldiers debated for a long while as to why those Italians were there.

"Maybe they're fags," one said, tearing off a piece of bread and eating it.

"Maybe they're fags for each other," another guffawed, stamping down to scare a rat away from the corner.

"No, I think maybe they're Jewish," a small soldier said.

"Maybe all three!"

They laughed and dropped the topic, returning to their awaiting meals. Ludwig didn't drop it as easily. He chewed in silence. For some reason he couldn't stop thinking about Feliciano and how he had looked at him. He couldn't stop imagining those auburn, honeyed eyes glancing at him briefly. The dirt-smeared, ovular face and soft long nose and straight eyebrow… Both brothers were muscular though wiry. Ludwig guessed accurately that they had lived in the countryside most of their lives.

The following day Ludwig pinned his eyes on Lovino, who constantly caused trouble and fought with anyone who looked at him funny.

"You think that's funny, eh, motherfucker?" Lovino hollered in English at someone who had accidentally dropped a pebble on Lovino's toe. "Well it _hurt_. Do that again and I'll rip your balls off."

"That's so mean!" Feliciano finally spoke up in a squeak and then quieted when a soldier looked at him. He went back to working with a smile on his face. The soldiers were tempted to whip him for enjoying himself. One did and told him to get moving. Another soldier forced Lovino away from the other man.

"It was a damn pebble!" the soldier cried in German, annoyed greatly with Lovino. Lovino pretended not to understand and went to work, cursing at the rocks instead.

"Damn brat, what the hell is he trying to do? Maybe we should kill him now," the soldier scowled. Ludwig shook his

…

Opal started. Ludwig had stopped unexpectedly. His eyes were distant and swimming with unease. Ludwig sighed.

"Isn't it strange to you or scary that you're listening to a soldier who killed people every day?" Ludwig asked.

"Well… you don't anymore, do you?"

"No. But I thought most people don't believe that someone can change. I didn't change. I only realized how wrong everything was. But even then I wasn't horrified or guilty. Sometimes I still catch myself making these judgments or wanting to 'rid the world of pests'."

Opal rubbed the linoleum floor with the toe of her shoe. "Now that I think of it, I'm not afraid of you. I'm just that sort of person, I guess. I mean, you know you did wrong and you stopped, at least, as much as you could, right?"

Ludwig only nodded.

…

Ludwig shook his head.

"It's a break in the monotony, at least," he said. He watched Feliciano hold the heavy rock and wanted to help him, but couldn't. He didn't even know why he wanted to take that boulder from those tanned, handsome arms. He turned away to avoid temptation. Before he could Feliciano had glanced at him and offered him a grin, as if this was the best time of his life. Ludwig didn't return the grin and walked away, deeply troubled.

As it turned out, Feliciano smiled at almost anyone, except for one soldier he claimed "scared him". Ludwig learned this through Lovino when he asked why his dumb brother grinned like a maniac.

"He likes life, no matter how hard. He's…" Lovino was at a loss for words. Ludwig smacked him across the back, lightly, and told him to return to work. Lovino did so and blabbed again in Italian about something that Ludwig had a feeling had to do with him.

Lovino's antics continued for a long while. The months at the camp molded into one long, painful moment. Nights were hopeless, mournful. The air quivered with laments. Ludwig slept on the top floor of a building in the center of the camp. Soldiers slept there as well. Some of higher standing slept in houses built just outside with their families. Since Ludwig was alone he refused to take one. At nights he gazed out the window at the naked white lights pooling in the made-up streets. Blood smeared the floors, along with other bodily fluids. A dog howled in the distance occasionally. Ludwig lay prostrate on his back in underwear and an undershirt, the bed sheet strewn at his feet. He held the cross at his chest with two fingers and held it up to the light, letting it catch the moonbeams if the moon wasn't hidden by clouds or trees.

In this daze he often dreamed of Feliciano. He hardly knew the man but he saw his face floating in his memories. Ludwig woke troubled by these dreams and took a walk. He didn't go into the woods for fear of thieves or wolves, though he could have crushed a herd of them with a single hand. He didn't want the trouble.

...

"I'm boring you with this, aren't I?" Ludwig said to the ceiling. "You probably want to hear some action, something bad happening, some huge. But in the end it didn't work like a novel or movie."

Opal shook her head furiously. "No! I'm not bored at all. I like hearing stories like these when you just remember your past. Sometimes the past seems so nice, doesn't it?"

Ludwig nodded slowly. "Well, I guess I'll tell you of how I met Feliciano finally when you come back."

Sam stood at the door, smiling politely at Ludwig who bowed his head in acknowledgement. Opal walked to her husband and bade Ludwig a good day.

"We'll come back next week, won't we?" She asked. Sam shook his head.

"It'll probably be sooner than that." He told Ludwig and pulled Opal out of the room to the end of the hall, where a square window poured in light and the sounds of cars rumbling below. A potted plant with a cyclamen sat at the corner, bathed in the light.

"What is it?" Opal asked.

"I'm taking Momma home. She doesn't like it here at all and she doesn't really need to stay, either. So tomorrow I'm taking her home. I'm sorry, but… You know I love my Momma very much, even if I disagree with her on a lot of things." Sam said quickly, never raising his voice, always remaining as docile as a loving puppy.

"I suppose that's fine." Opal sighed. "I won't like it, though. She really hates me."

Sam didn't want to argue. "You can drive here every week if you still want to see him. I have no problem with that."

"How about when you take her home I'll stay a while longer to talk?" Opal suggested.

Sam frowned. "Momma will only get mad at you for doing that."

They continued discussing this and, civilly, came to a decision that pleased both, but left Sam feeling unreasonably jealous. Was this old man more interesting than he? Probably, Sam thought sadly, and went to tell his mother the news. Opal told Ludwig she'd visit him the following day while Sam prepared his Momma to go home. Then Opal could visit him more often, if possible. She didn't need an excuse, Sam knew.

"What a loving, understanding couple." Ludwig said, shocked.

"Well, he's real good to me even when I'm mad or sad at myself." Opal said bashfully. She never really considered how well she got along. They didn't have a tragic or compelling back story. Nothing like Ludwig and Feliciano, at least, Opal thought.

"You should tell me how you met some day." Ludwig said. "I get tired of talking for so long. It'd be nice to listen for once."


	3. Part III: Homebound

The photograph showed Ludwig in monochrome holding up a gun and pretending not to see the camera. Gray grass rose up at his feet. The metal oh his gun gleamed white under the sun. Ludwig faced away, in profile, as if looking across the forest that stretched on for a long time behind him. He wore a plain white shirt and his uniform pants, with his jacket wrapped around his waist and big boots to his knees, stained with mud. Several leaves stuck to him, one in his hair which was impeccably pulled back at the temples.

Opal set it down on the table. "You were very handsome at the time, and you still are." She added with a grin.

Ludwig shrugged. "An old friend brought that buy. He said Gilbert gave to him not long after I left. This was when I was just a regular soldier."

"Who took it?" Opal asked.

"I don't remember it ever being taken, actually, but the old friend who brought it by said a photographer had seen me. The photographer thought it was an excellent image and snapped a picture before I could react."

"Did you ever get the photographer's name?" Opal asked, admiring the subtle tones. She had been in a photography club for several years. She couldn't master it, however, no matter how many techniques were thrown her way.

Ludwig grinned real big. "Yes, I found it out."

…

_Part III: Homebound_

"Wait a moment," Ludwig said, grabbing Feliciano by the shoulder and pulling him away from the rest. Other men tensed, waiting to be called up to a beating. Feliciano trembled under Ludwig's firm grasp. Feliciano stepped out of the building into the storm outside, shielding by the rooftop. Water dripped from the corners, painting the cement a darker gray. The storm rumbled. Thunderheads roared with cackling electricity. The wind picked up and slanted the rain. Feliciano stared at the sky before turning to Ludwig, giving him a weak smile.

"Yes?" he asked innocently.

"I've seen you before." He understood now why he couldn't stop thinking of Feliciano's smile. It was so familiar.

"Have you? I've lived in Italy my entire life." Feliciano switched from English to Italian in his hysterics.

"You took a picture of me!"

It set in that he was not about to be beaten. Feliciano visibly relaxed. Lovino peered through the door in worry before another soldier grabbed him by the cuff and threw him back. Lovino stared at the colorless, odorless food in disgust and imagined a plump red tomato in its place. Nothing helped. He sighed and nibbled on the spoon, worried sick over Feliciano.

"You were that handsome man I saw in the woods?" Feliciano asked. "Oh, I remember now, you were younger then!"

Ludwig had trouble understanding Feliciano's heavily accented English. He looked around the clearing. A soldier was staring at him in interest, wondering why Feliciano wasn't screaming. Ludwig realized that if someone was to see him be friendly to this man he would be caught and sent home. He couldn't bear that so he raised his whip and brought it down an inch away from Feliciano's paralyzed cheek. Feliciano gaped. "Go," Ludwig mouthed and smacked him again. Feliciano cried out and returned to the cantina, bawling. He didn't need to act, he was terrified stiff. He sat down by Lovino and stared at the ceiling.

"What did he do?" a soldier asked, walking casually up to Ludwig. Despite Ludwig's ability to appear frightening whenever he wanted to, most soldiers were overtly friendly to him.

"He wanted to convince me he was wrongly accused." Ludwig was grateful most of these men didn't know English well. "He won't be causing any more trouble."

…

"What luck!" Opal said merrily. She patted down her skirt. She was relaxed. The only time she wasn't strained was when she was away from her home with the grouchy mother-in-law and speaking to Ludwig. Ludwig could tell. He wanted someone to speak to anyway.

"Yes, apparently Feliciano and Lovino were hiding in Germany. Someone must have mistaken them for something else or they must have got on the train by mistake. That's what I conjectured then, but now I know better. The reason they were in that camp is simple: their mother was Catholic and their father Jewish."

Opal's smile dropped. Ludwig questioned her with a quirked eyebrow. Opal shook her head. "I'm sorry. I was expecting some sort of huge plan. I thought they were on the run and they saw the first train and hopped on, unknowingly going to a camp."

"I thought that too. The files showed that they had Jewish blood in them. They lived in Germany for a month and returned to Italy where they were brandished and then, a few years later, sent back. Feliciano would run away with a camera and take a picture of anything pretty he saw, even though his brother said not to. Feliciano thought he looked fine and wouldn't be prosecuted. They weren't, surprisingly, but went home just in time to witness their grandfather's funeral. Their mother died at birth and their father died shortly after the Great War, leaving them to the hands of their grandfather." Ludwig stopped his rant and appeared weak. His gaunt features stretched in pain.

"You know quite a bit about them, huh?" Opal said with a breezy chuckle. She cleared her throat and gazed at her feet.

…

"Grandfather Roma would tell me all sorts of stories!" Feliciano said brightly. "Before he died he told me a story about this man named Atlas who was punished. He had to raise the sky on his shoulders to keep it from touching the ground for eternity."

Ludwig watched him speak as he hauled blocks of cement. He was supposed to whip any that disobeyed his orders, but in the past few months he had become lax in his orders. Some even started to like him for brief, glimmering seconds until they saw the hate and cruelty in his eyes.

Lovino smacked Feliciano on the back of his head. "Feliciano no one is listening!" he cried in Italian. Ludwig had begun to pick up several words and pretended not to have a clue what he said. He had been in fact completely enraptured with each word Feliciano had blabbered on about, telling either the others or Ludwig, maybe. Sometimes when Feliciano said something awaiting a response, his eyes would land on Ludwig.

"You never know! The spirits may be listening now. And He will always listen to us, don't you think?" Feliciano asked, looking again at Ludwig who pretended not to notice. He hesitated. Feliciano gave him a knowing grin and continued to work and jabber on.

…

"He was religious, you know?" Ludwig said. "He believed in his deity and in goodness. He wanted everyone to be loved. He trusted everyone. He never judged or hated. I doubt he knew what the words 'bad' or 'evil' meant aside from being these big ideas. He'd pray for everyone he knew…"

…

Ludwig took night patrol. He walked around. Only several others stayed up with him. He watched them lazily stand guard. Ludwig stopped before the camp when he heard a whispering voice. He stood near the window and listened.

Feliciano bowed over his bed, his hands clasped together, and he prayed. He prayed for his brother, for his mother, his grandfather, his father, and several others Ludwig didn't know about. Ludwig was about to leave. His foot stopped and he pulled back, gripping his belt where a gun hung from.

"…and those soldiers we have here, especially the one named Ludwig," Feliciano was speaking in a mix between Italian and English, mostly Italian. Ludwig understood each word though he didn't know why. Perhaps Feliciano's voice had unlocked a chest of understanding within him. Ludwig's heart began to race at the sound of his name. "I know they do bad things but I don't think they mean them…" he asked for peace and tranquility and goodness. He asked to go home safely. He asked for the soldiers to return home safely. He asked for home to always be there, good to the heart, true to the family. Ludwig felt tears brimming and walked away, unable to hear another word.

…

Opal checked her watch. It was nearing three o'clock. If she wanted to go the grocery store and come home in time to make dinner, she would have to leave very soon. She hated the idea of leaving Ludwig.

"I hate to go," she said, standing reluctantly and collecting her purse. "I have a lot I still need to do today."

"Go ahead, I'll see you soon." Ludwig said solemnly.

"I'll see you next week."

…

That night Opal stared at the moonlit ceiling. Sam's back was turned to her, rising and falling evenly with his breaths. When she closed her eyes she could see herself speaking to Feliciano. For some reason she didn't see the camp, but a countryside with grazing cows and chickens plucking at the floor. She saw Lovino yelling harshly at some neighbor or at Feliciano. She imagined Feliciano's bright face laughing and telling her jokes, making her forget about all the hardships she had. In her fantasies she was young and Feliciano was alive.

Maybe Opal would run away. Her eyes shot open at the thought. Little, mild-mannered, quiet Opal would run away to the country and meet some strange man who was kind enough to let her stay. She could tend the animals and do the cooking. She turned to look at Sam. Would he miss her? She reached out and touched his shoulder. He grunted and continued to sleep. In the other room her mother-in-law's snoring seemed to shake the walls. Sam grunted and huffed in his sleep but nothing like the elephant screeching bloody murder in the next room. The more Opal heard it, the more she wanted to rip her ears off or bury her head in her pillow and bang on the walls to get that walrus to shut up.

…

"Thank you for the breakfast, Opal dear." Her mother-in-law said the following morning, getting up heavily and running her plates under the tap water. She began to scrub. Opal stared at her.

"I told you she was only mean because she wanted to go home." Sam said, taking his coffee.


	4. Part IV: Speak Softly, Sweetheart

_Part IV: Speak Softly, Sweetheart_

Feliciano noticed something brush against his pants. He looked down, when he was hidden behind a building, and discovered a folded note. His heart beat quickly. With trembling fingers, sure he'd find his death spelled in blood, he unfolded it.

…

"You slipped him a note?" Opal said, giggling into her fingers.

Ludwig laughed as well. "Yes, it's like two lovebirds in school. Except if we were caught we weren't sent to a person but to death." His laughter died away. The bed creaked as he raised his body, pulling open a drawer. There was a purse women often used to put coins or money. His arms trembled and he gave to Opal, plumping back down on the bed.

The papers, yellowed with age and smelling musty, were written all over in red ink. The handwriting, English, varied between a short, curt style and a loping, pretty, curvy style she knew at once was Feliciano's. Emotion sprung into her eyes. Here, in her hands, was proof this man existed. Several notes were paper clipped together. She looked at the first one.

…

_Hello. I am the soldier you took a picture of once. Why do you pray for everyone? We soldier do not deserve it._

_…_

_Yes you do! _

_…_

_Answer this question: what would you do if we met in peaceful conditions?_

_… _

_I would talk to you! I would invite you to the restaurant my granddad owned! Lovi would serve you and I would cook. Then we could take a walk and I could show you the cows all over the country. Wouldn't that be fun? We could play cards or something. What would you do?_

_…_

_ I don't know what I would do. I might just ignore you. We are very different. You are like a warm ocean topped with white froth and a warm, greenish-blue. I am like the rock that sits atop a mountain overlooking this ocean that does not move and is always cool to the touch. _

_…_

_What a poet! I didn't know you could write so prettily. But I'm not a sea. I'm not so great or huge. _

_…_

_Then you are a daisy and I am a pebble. _

_…_

_When you crack some rocks open you find gems inside. _

_…_

_Some you find nothing but ash._

_…_

_But ash and rock of the good earth. Is that not rich and precious?_

_…_

_We must cease this conversation. I have been caught once receiving this letter from your brother. Burn these papers. We mustn't speak again. If we are caught it will be very bad for both of us._

_…_

"He never burned them." Opal said, returning them to Ludwig. Ludwig shook his head. "Did you ever speak again after that?"

…

"That Italian Jew you found really can cook!" A soldier said, raising his glass in toast. The soldiers followed suit. The metallic cups gleamed harshly under the lights. Lovino waited on them impatiently, his eyebrows furrowed and his dark eyes glinting dangerously. Feliciano was in the kitchen with another Jewish man who stumbled in fear. They were the fortunate ones. They cooked meals for the soldiers, the guards, day in and day out.

"I'll go see if he's done with dessert." Ludwig said and stood. His chair squeaked. He passed by Lovino who gave him a bitter look. Ludwig returned it slyly and Lovino was taken aback.

Ludwig opened the heavy doors. The other cook jumped, staring at him with deep, sorrowful eyes. Ludwig nodded at him. "Give the dishes to the waiter." The man nodded and grabbed the slices of cake topped with cherries. Ludwig turned to Feliciano who only smiled at him.

"They praise your cooking."

"Thank you!" Feliciano stirred something in a pot. Ludwig peered in. Chunks of meat bobbed in the boiling water. Feliciano added a small ration of salt, using it wisely. They only had so much.

"Is this horse meat?" Ludwig asked.

Feliciano stared, aghast. "I wouldn't feed you those handsome beasts! This is beef. I'll make it tender."

"Why are you cooking so much for us? You could poison us." Ludwig said. "You could make the food bad. We can't exactly fire you. We lost our original cook to tuberculosis." Ludwig cast his eyes downwards sadly. The memory played in his head of the energetic, weedy cook who refused to gain a pound and made remarkably classic German food. He only got thinner and sicker and eventually he was caught dead trying to get rid of a rat.

Feliciano shook his head, placing a lid over the pot and cleaning the kitchen up. "I like to cook. To make it bad on purpose would be an insult! And why would I poison you? No one deserves to be poisoned."

Ludwig bent down and looked at Feliciano's honey-amber eyes. The curved eyelid, studded with elegant, long lashes, twitched in a wave of fear. Dark pupils catching circles of light shifted uneasily in Ludwig's stare. Feliciano's softly rounded dose was dotted with pale freckles, barely noticeable. He was unlike his hard-faced brother with a larger nose and better formed brow. Ludwig tried to discern weakness or cowardice in Feliciano but found instead something akin to hope. Arms akimbo, Ludwig began to leave. There were no windows. The other cook ventured back in but Ludwig dismissed him, as though he was about to punish Feliciano. He wanted to instead know what Feliciano hesitated so briefly for.

"Will you kill me if I touch you?" Feliciano asked once the door shut firmly. The chatter of the soldiers, in the raspy German language, rose to drown out Feliciano's words.

"No." Ludwig said. He meant that word more than he ever meant anything in his life. Feliciano rose on his tip-toes, his claves trembling with the effort. Ludwig could see how thin Feliciano had become. He could see his sharp shoulder blades, his ribs visible, and his fingers the color of candle wax. Feliciano placed a soft kiss on Ludwig's lips. Ludwig didn't move a muscle. "Go. We will call you tomorrow morning."

Feliciano, flushed, nodded and left.

…

Ludwig touched his lips with the tips of his fingers. Opal stared at him, her eyes dreamy.

"How lovely," she said, remembering her first kiss behind a building with some boy she'd long forgotten about.

"I suppose so…"

…

When Opal went home she hugged her husband and, mimicking Feliciano, rose on her toes and kissed him softly. She expected to surprise him. Instead he swept her into his arms and kissed her back.

She hadn't kissed him like that for over ten years.

…

Ludwig's lips were never kissed again after the war.


	5. Part V: Requiem in D Minor

It took two weeks for Opal to visit Ludwig. When she did her cheeks were tainted a deep red and Ludwig gazed at her in mild disappointment. Opal's lip trembled as she sat down. "I'm sorry for being late. Some things came up."

"Do not have any worries," Ludwig said softly, gazing at a photograph next to the one of him as a soldier. "I was visited last week by a friend. He brought me another photograph."

Opal nodded, relieved that Ludwig hadn't asked what happened. She didn't want to recount the tense fight she had with her mother-in-law, just as everything seemed to turn for the better, nor did she want to detail the heavy blow she received when she learned her son had been arrested. Ludwig knew to remain silent on such details, for he had suffered the same. "Is this of your brother?" Opal asked, turned the gilded frame to face her. In grainy black and white a young man stood beaming at the camera, his arms akimbo. His white hair was a mess and his red eyes, shown a tender grey in the photo, were laughing all the same. Behind him a parlor yawned, a chandelier hung over his head, spilling light for the photo taken casually. He was in civilian clothing.

"Yes." Ludwig said with a slow nod. He was losing any hope of prolonging his life as age ticked away time, like a sad song spilling hours and days.

"You rarely speak of him. Can you tell me more about him?" Opal said. Gilbert reminded her of a character she once read about who never was shown proper time on the screen. She fingered her purse and produced a package of gummy candy. She offered some to Ludwig who didn't notice her and started to speak, raising his wrinkled, frayed, war-torn arm to his face and dragging it down, so his features stretched but were hardly relieved.

…

_Part V: Requiem in D Minor_

Gilbert: handsome, lanky, strong Gilbert was loud, obnoxious, unfeeling, and the greatest friend anyone could ever have. Men who befriended him were proud that they had endured hours of harsh laughter when, later in the war, it paid off.

In the trenches, the Great War, Gilbert was only nineteen. His brother was younger. By the second war he would be nearly thirty and still old age hadn't even glanced at him. In trench warfare when his feet turned bad he still made jokes to lighten other soldiers. When a soldier began to tremble and cry woefully for his mother he would offer a kind arm and the crying, hoarse yelling would cease because no one who looked at Gilbert's broad, yellowed grin without grinning back. Gilbert could catch a rat with a dagger. Gilbert could find food anywhere. Gilbert smoked up a storm and coughed and laughed at his own foolishness. When Ludwig was born, several years prior, Gilbert had stayed up all night with their frail mother and strong, muscular father. He cried when the naked, bawling baby entered the world red as beets.

Gilbert: he who could recite poetry and bayonet an enemy at one moment without a question to his morals. Gilbert was older when he saw the message Ludwig received. He was proud, proud of his country, proud of his heritage. He didn't hate the men he fought but he loved his side too much to drop his weapons.

In the Second World War Gilbert took leave. He sat in their poor house and spoke to his mother, gnawing on a cigarette. His mother sat across from him, sewing up Ludwig's old, patched clothing. Ludwig would never return for them. Moreover she sat and _pluck-pluck-pluck _went her thick needle and thick thread. Her fingers were stained from paint at her job dyeing clothing. Her hair was done up in a severe bone and her long nose cast a triangular shadow across her cheeks.

"Aren't you happy for Luddy?" Gilbert asked, grinning. His mother grinned back.

"I am very happy he has gained a higher standing in the army. I am happy to have him away from the front lines." When she grinned the wrinkles on her cheeks deepened. Gilbert stood and hugged her shoulders from behind. He smelled of tobacco and earth. "Also, he sends some rations over. How lovely of him! I would think that we should starve without him."

"And what are my rations?" Gilbert asked, aghast.

His mother sniffed. "Army bread is no good."

…

"Wait," Opal interrupted, "How do you know how this happened? You weren't there."

Ludwig didn't change his expression. His chest moved more rapidly. "I know because later Mother told me."

…

A week after Gilbert returned to the front line, Ludwig arrived on his leave. He had three days to stay. His mother wanted more. He wanted less. He couldn't bear it. He sat by his mother and she recounted Gilbert's visit, this time she was relaxing on the shoddy ottoman.

"You two are so different." She sighed. "I would think you had a different mother had I not clearly held you in my arms a moment after you left my womb." She patted down her dress as she stretched. "I made you a cake, Ludwig, your favorite."

Ludwig's stomach growled at the possibility. He hadn't tasted his mother's velvety, smooth cake in three years, just after he left with Gilbert to live in the small house further off, closer to the battle site. The scent drifted into the living room. Ludwig stood and drifted into the kitchen. The scent, like a rope, tugged him along. His mother raised the cake, smaller the usual for rations allowed only so much, and set it on the table. She placed a silver plate before him and a fork with bent prongs. Ludwig cut off a section and began to chew, his eyes closing. He thought he would weep.

"Come home more often, Ludwig." His mother said gently. She placed her arm on his bulging bicep. A sly grin crossed her face. "You know, that lovely girl Annette asked about you the other day. There, isn't she lovely?" She nodded out the window. Ludwig turned. Outside a little brunette no older than he was stood outside her house, pouring water into a dismal plant with a wilted flower. She had a dimpled, round face that suggested French origin. Her dress was a pastel pink and cut off just above the ankles. A silk scarf covered her slender neck. Fall was approaching, again. Ludwig began to wonder how many seasons he had seen through this window. He wondered how many blossoms bloomed, how many rain showers fell, how many snowflakes stuck to the window, and how many lives had passed by, in happy and sad times both.

"Annette?" Ludwig repeated. She seemed to be a good wife. She was well-built, homey. He had even played several games with her as children. She had grown up well. He wondered if her temper was the same uncontrollable entity or if she still picked fights with the boys, especially Gilbert even though he was much her senior. "Maybe I should go talk to her."

"Go, go on." His mother cooed. "Invite her in if you want."

Ludwig nodded and exited the door. His mother watched eagerly, but behind the veil of excitement was a sorrow, a cold stone sunk at the bottom of a well. It haunted Ludwig, drifting into his mind and forming a stone in his own well. The wind bit at him as he stepped out and crossed the street. Annette was still pouring water on the plant. She set the glass cup down and touched its browned petals.

"It won't grow anymore in winter." Ludwig said. She jumped and her green eyes landed on him. She was several inches shorter than he was.

"I know, but it shouldn't have died yet. It has time yet."

"I suppose it does, but don't force it to live if it doesn't want to." Ludwig bent over the plant. His hair fell over his eyes. He decided he needed to cut it soon. Annette watched him, clicking her tongue.

"It does not know life yet to meet death! Death has nothing to do with it yet."

"Have you over-watered it then?" Ludwig asked. She was still just as stubborn.

Her expression fell. She said nothing.

"Don't water it for several days. Plants don't need water like humans do." Ludwig quoted Gilbert. Gilbert had said those exact words to his mother when he returned home from the trenches. He recalled how they drank muddy, ugly water. His comrades joked about wanting to be a plant, so they could soak up water in their roots and trudge on for several days without ever being parched.

Annette nodded. The door swung open and her father, a Frenchman, saw her talking to Ludwig. He stiffened and glowered at Ludwig. Ludwig shyly turned away and bade Annette a good-bye.

…

"Even when I married her I always sought Feliciano in her. I sought his happiness, his glee, his love of humans, but instead I found a stubborn, though loving wife." Ludwig said, glancing down at the ring on his finger. Opal felt a sudden anger rise in her.

"You married her?"

"What else was I to do? I needed to marry." Ludwig explained.

"But shouldn't you have stayed true to Feliciano?"

"Maybe in these years I could have. But then my mother would have died of shame had she known I died unmarried. Annette was a good wife, as I said. Many men envied me. She loved my wholly but I never returned any sort of emotion except for a friendship. I think she knew all the way until her death. If only her dying words were 'I knew all along' then I could rest more peaceably."

Opal shook her head slowly. "I understand." Ludwig remained silent. Finally Opal took a long breath and reclined on the chair, glancing out the window. The sky was gloomily choked with clouds. Thunderheads loomed in the distance. Several children played far below, tossing a basketball between them and laughing. Graffiti sprawled across the side of a school, barely visible from the hospital. "What happened after Feliciano kissed you?"

…

The night following Feliciano's soft kiss, Ludwig managed to smuggle Feliciano outside of the camp. He was mad with passion and lust. He traded several good cigarettes with the other soldiers to keep them quiet. They assumed he was about to commit murder to the cloaked figure at his side. Feliciano gripped Ludwig's hand. They ventured out into the woods. Wolves howled. Feliciano jumped and clutched Ludwig's side.

"Isn't it scary out here?" he asked.

"No, they won't harm you." Ludwig lied, "They are scavengers, they eat only what has already been killed." He couldn't stop his heart from beating so hard. He hoped Feliciano couldn't hear. They entered a round clearing where the moon shone overhead like an eye peering into a bottle. The two sat down in the center. Ludwig kissed Feliciano hotly. They clothing fell away like petals from a flower and they sprawled on the grass, cheeks red, panting hotly. Ludwig had never known such taboo bliss, such relief, such yearning for love, such a consummation between two flesh and bone bodies. They intertwined perfectly and Feliciano bit into his jacket to not cry out in euphoria.

When the finished, Feliciano pulled Ludwig's chest to him and buried his small head in the bulging muscles. "I never knew it felt so good in the forest."

"Neither did I." Ludwig said, petting Feliciano's head and running his hand down his back.

"Ludwig?"

"Yes?"

Feliciano propped himself up on his elbows and gazed at Ludwig. "I love you."

Ludwig's heart thundered. "You…"

"I loved you the moment I saw you in that other forest so long ago. You were so handsome. And when I saw you again I was so happy. I'm not stupid. I know they will, _you_ will, kill me soon. Lovino knows it too. We try to make each other happier but sometimes we can't… But you, so handsome, so strong, like all of you soldiers. I want only the best…" he couldn't complete his sentence.

"I have strong feelings for you too, love, I think." Ludwig responded. "Pure, nice, beautiful."

Feliciano leaned over and planted a kiss on Ludwig's lips. "Thank you."

Ludwig pulled him closer and again relived the euphoria. All night long they couldn't part. When Ludwig, early the next morning, brought him back, Feliciano was drunk on love and unable to walk. Lovino was insanely suspicious but asked nothing. Everyone else noticed. Some threatened to shoot him.

…

Opal's cheeks were bright red. She crossed her legs uncomfortably.

"It was the best night of my life." He said. "Later, when I was Annette trying for a first child, I couldn't bring myself back to that feeling of such intense, immense, release. I loved Feliciano's body under me, his heart pounding away. Annette's soft breasts showed no match to Feliciano's arms and flat stomach and bones to rigged in his skin and his lips and skin so soft, too. Annette was beautiful as well, but… I never kissed her on the lips. She thought I was too 'uptight'..."

…

Passion, passion so grand and beautiful; passion that drives men insane. Passion that creates beautiful art. Passion that causes tragedy. Passion that causes love. Passion that creates music and paintings and novels and causes voices to rise from earth and send them shooting the heavens! Passion unlike any other and passion Opal barely knew. She did not know the passion Gilbert had for survival, nor the passion Ludwig for the simple truth, nor the Austrian pianist for the music of Mozart or Bach or Chopin. She would not know and she was thankful, part of her was gleaming with bliss of not knowing the passion that births insanity and produces beauty. The passion's roots are vile and poisonous but the flower above is more gold than a marigold, more innocent than a daisy, more beautiful than a rose. Two small flowers at its base, life and death, support the heavy flower: requiems for creation.


	6. Part VI: No Word More

While driving to the hospital, Opal filled Sam in on the details of Ludwig's exploits. Up until now he had declined her offers to join him. Finally his mother had turned on him, too, and he found a sliver of solace in Opal's method of "repose" as she liked to call it.

Opal gripped the steering wheel, slowly riding through the highway. She began to describe the events that took place in the clearing, which in turn inspired the previous nights' events. Opal still tingled with euphoria. Sam felt uncomfortable and stared out the window. Opal chattered on, describing Ludwig and Feliciano's intercourse in lavish detail, with a blush pluming on her cheeks. Sam raised his hand and set it on hers.

"Honey…" he said gently.

"Yes?" She stopped. She had reached a description of the pair's final round in which Feliciano failed to contain his cry of glee. Their hearts pounded. Any shadow became a soldier, a general, or a civilian. Feliciano gripped Ludwig's back, his fingers digging into the broad, muscular surface glistening with sweat.

"Can you please move on?" Sam asked quietly.

Opal shrugged.

Not long afterwards they reached the hospital. Opal and Sam took the seats next to Ludwig. The partition was drawn, its designs now changed to a pale blue. On the other side a man lay motionless, hooked up to an oxygen tank. He could have been no older than thirty. Ludwig's eyes landed on Sam and remained there. Sam looked back, business-like, and in those watery eyes he noticed something like melted pain, as though he had suffered a good deal but the remains were in ruins. Ludwig gave him something like a grin.

"A handsome young man for a lovely young woman," Ludwig said.

"Oh, I'm not that young." Opal said, blushing. Sam wondered if that was why she stuck around. Although elderly, Ludwig had a sense of unwavering charm.

"I hate to intrude…" Sam ventured, raising his head. His hair line was receding.

"You want to learn what happened next?" Ludwig asked. Sam nodded. Despite the gritty details, he had become enraptured as well with the story, for some reason he couldn't fathom. He had read plenty of novels about the WWII era. He knew the clichés, the plot points, the character's arch, and yet somehow something was new about this story. Something darker…

"Very well, then." Ludwig said. He was in an especially good mood. The pictures were lined up neatly on the table, next to an array of pills organized by dosage, size, and color. The binds were drawn. Aside from the clatter outside and the whirring of the oxygen tank, the room was silent. Ludwig shifted to a seated position. For the first time Opal noticed a long, knotted scar that started at his collar bone, where his hospital gown dipped. His chest was free of hair, like his jaw.

…

_Part VI: No Word More_

Eventually it came time to "cleanse" the camp. Summer couldn't have chosen a worse time to rear its dashing head. The birds and cicadas battled in volume with their music. The trees rustled with warm wind. The sun cooked the earth and caused shadows to spill on the ground, the kind children sit under when they tire of playing.

The men were shoved into a small, filthy, reeking room and told to take their clothes off.

"A shower, finally!" They heard Lovino cry loudly. He was on the verge of hysterics. He grabbed his brother's hand and pulled him close for a hug. Tears streamed down his cheeks, digging ruts in the grime. Ludwig marched through the ranks, checking to see everyone was in line. When he passed Feliciano, pain like a white, blurred wall shot up from the ground before him. He stared at Feliciano, unable to move or cry. Feliciano stared back. He stood up, covering his groin with his shirt, suddenly developing a sense of shame. Ludwig bent over, trying to see what Feliciano wanted to say. Feliciano said nothing. Instead he kissed Ludwig's forehead, drawing one dirty hand behind Ludwig's neatly washed head. They must have stood like that for an eternity. Ludwig pulled away and stalked off. No one paid any attention. If they had noticed they didn't care. There were more precious things to worry about than damned gossip.

Lovino wept and clutched his brother. He slipped his hand into Feliciano's grasp, begging forgiveness, begging for paradise, and begging for some sort of relinquishment he could barely fathom. Feliciano looked behind him. Ludwig stared. He reached for his collar, where Feliciano, in his kiss, had slipped something. He felt something soft. He pulled it out and saw two small flowers in his palm, crumpled and bruised. One was white and the other red. Ludwig managed to lock eyes with Feliciano before he was swallowed into the crowd.

…

"No, that's not right." Ludwig said, becoming confused. He aged in a mere moment. His features drew, his eyes became misty. "I went in there. Feliciano is alive. I sacrificed myself. I didn't stand there. I was the one who died!" He began to bellow. Opal and Sam recoiled. She grabbed his hand and the nurse, hearing his screaming, rushed in. She found his temperature to be too high and his pulse out of control.

"I think you should leave." The nurse said.

Opal and Sam nodded silently. That was the first and last time Sam ever heard from Ludwig. He did see him later, in a photo Ludwig had willed Opal to have.

The envelope came in the mail a month later. Opal received it with great dismay. She went to her room, wrapping her bathrobe tightly around her person. She sat down on the edge of her bed and gently pried it open. The inside was the photo of Ludwig Feliciano had taken. She set that down. Sam later found it and examined it. The other contents of the envelope were two small flowers, withered, and pressed into plastic.

**End**


End file.
